


The Hanged Man

by thirtythreepaces



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Two Shot, if boone won't go to therapy maybe he'll listen to tarot cards, nonbinary she/her courier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirtythreepaces/pseuds/thirtythreepaces
Summary: The Hanged Man is a martyr, self-made or otherwise. He has made peace with his role in life — a lesson in letting go, in allowing what will happen to happen and accepting the future while taking the time to reflect. But while it’s important to make peace with the darkness, how long can you stagnate?Releasing the noose would be painful, a drastic change, but it is the only way for the Hanged Man to move forward.-Stuck in Bitter Springs while they recover from their injuries, Boone and the courier have their fortunes told.
Relationships: Craig Boone/Courier (Fallout), Craig Boone/Female Courier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	The Hanged Man

It had been raining for the past three days, and Boone felt like he was going to lose his mind if they had to stay in Bitter Springs one more night. But between the steady downpour and the medic’s orders to refrain from any strenuous physical activity, he and the courier were stuck there whether they liked it or not.

Though farmers always thanked their lucky stars when the heavens opened up, he knew firsthand the kind of problems that rain brought to a camp. It cast a shroud of gloom over the whole place as soldiers and refugees alike huddled under tarps or makeshift shelters, sharing cigarettes in an attempt to keep warm. The rainwater quickly turned the dry desert sands into mud pits — flash floods were a constant danger, and it was impossible to keep anything clean or dry.

“Y’know, I kind of like the rain,” the courier said, voice overshadowing the sound of raindrops hitting the roof of their tent. “Even if it’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

Boone looked over at her. She was attempting to wipe some of the muck off of her boots after spending the morning trekking all the way back to the Crimson Caravan Company, alone, just for some medical textbooks for the camp’s medic. It made him wonder how she could call herself a selfish person. If she hadn’t been so generous with their medical supplies, they would’ve been able to leave sooner, but the courier had been insistent on handing over almost everything they had. 

“Why?” he asked.

“Dunno. Nice to not have to worry about dyin’ of thirst, I guess. And the sound’s nice.” She shrugged. “How’re you feeling?”

He wasn’t sure if she was referring to the row of stitches in his upper chest or to a different injury, one of the mind rather than body. It was easier to address the former. “Fine. Not as terrible as everyone else seems to think.”

The courier shot him a glare. “You almost died. If a bullet didn’t kill you, some bedrest won’t either.”

She was right. If he wasn’t careful, he’d tear the wound open all over again, and that would just set them back even further. He still wasn’t happy about it, though.

“I’d say we’re set to leave as soon as this rain lets up.” Apparently finished with her boots, she walked over and sat next to him on his cot, resting her chin in her hands as she watched the rain fall outside. “Think I’ll die of boredom if we don’t.”

They were both impatient. The courier didn’t like staying in one place for too long while Boone just wanted to put as much distance between him and Bitter Springs as humanly possible. Even if he had made a fraction of peace with what had happened, it didn’t mean he liked the place.

While looking at her, he suddenly realized that she was missing something. “Where’s your bandana?” The red scrap of fabric that he’d always seen tied around her neck was absent. He was kicking himself for taking so long to notice.

“You don’t remember? I… I guess you _were_ pretty out of it,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “I used it to soak up the blood when you got shot. Tried to wash it and the thing finally just fell apart. Bound to happen eventually.”

Her tone was casual, but Boone could tell that she was upset. It was one of the only things she’d had on her when she woke up in Goodsprings. Back when she couldn’t even remember her real name, when she would cling to every bit of information she came by. He’d never seen her go out without it.

And she’d lost it because of him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. It wasn’t some empty apology, either — he meant it.

She shook her head. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll get another one. But thanks.”

She was lying, but he knew when to drop it. The courier had once said that trying to get him to open up was like “pushing on a dog” — they pushed back twice as hard for no particular reason. Though she’d thrown it at him, he’d come to realize that she was just as stubborn. Full-on shoves made them lock up completely, so they’d gotten skilled at subtle nudges.

They lapsed back into comfortable silence as they watched the rain fall outside. Boone's thoughts drifted to the person beside him — a common problem as of late. It was troubling to say the least. He wasn’t supposed to be able to tell when she was hurting without so much of a word on her end — hell, he wasn’t supposed to care in the first place. But you didn’t spend nearly a year in someone’s company without learning their habits. The two of them were friends now. Good, maybe even best friends. That wasn’t what bothered him — nothing had ever happened to Manny that Boone hadn’t done himself. Even then, all he did was break his nose.

The moments where he felt like they were more than friends were what worried him. The times that she’d sing and play guitar for the two of them, when she’d rest her head on his shoulder and he’d let her. Just because it felt good. He’d told her things that he’d never told anyone else, not even Carla, and she stuck with him through it all.

And that didn’t even begin to unpack the fact that she wasn’t strictly a woman. Boone had always considered himself to be straight despite a few rogue thoughts, but—

“I can _hear_ you overthinking, tonto.” Her lips were turned up as she said it, though she kept her gaze straight ahead.

He huffed a laugh. “Not much else to do.”

“We need to get you out of your head. I saw one of the refugees doing tarot readings for some of the soldiers. Maybe it’ll help you get your mind off things.”

“Tarot?” he asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Y’know, like fortune-telling? It’s all bullshit,” she smirked, “but… I dunno. Might be fun. Beats sittin’ here and starin’ at nothing.”

Boone let out a long sigh. “Guess you’re right. Alright, let’s go.”

Any progress that the courier had achieved in cleaning her boots was quickly undone as they trudged through the mud. Apparently noticing that his beret was getting soaked, she pulled her duster over the top of her head and placed her cowboy hat on his with a grin. They probably looked ridiculous, walking through the pouring rain and smiling like idiots. Only she could make him smile in a place like this. 

It didn’t take them long to find the tent. Just before they could go in, a soldier ran up to the courier. “Lieutenant Markland is looking for you, sir.”

She grumbled under her breath — apparently getting those books wasn’t enough to get the NCR to stop asking her for favors. “Alright. Boone, you go on ahead. I’ll be back in a bit.”

He wanted to protest, but she’d already turned and started following the recruit back to the command tent. Boone wasn’t anxious to do things on his own — the idea of fortune-telling just made him a bit uncomfortable, given his… _unique_ relationship with fate.

Still, he wasn’t about to chicken out. He lifted up the tent flap and the woman inside waved him in with a smile. He wasn’t sure what he'd been expecting — maybe an old crone with a crystal ball, speaking in riddles while candles cast long shadows on the walls. But it was just a tent, lit by a lantern in the corner and made comfortable with a handwoven rug on the floor. The fortune-teller looked like any other mature wastelander. Her dark hair, streaked with grey, was in a long braid over her shoulder, and the lines on her face only made her look kinder.

“Please, sit down.” She gestured to the space across from her. Boone took a seat on the floor and matched her posture, crossing his legs.

The fortune-teller glanced at his head, an amused smile on her face. “I’m not sure I’ve caught on to that fashion trend.”

It took him a second to realize that he still had the courier’s hat on top of his beret, and he quickly took it off. “It’s, uh, my friend’s.”

“Are they with you?”

“Had to do something. She told me to go on ahead.”

She looked at him for a moment. “Nervous?”

“No.” When she didn’t speak again, he felt pressured to fill the silence. “I’ve just never done this before.”

“That’s common. Do you believe that what I’ll tell you has any kind of value?”

He had to think about that for a moment. The courier clearly thought it was nonsense, but he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know.”

“I only ask because the cards can’t help you unless you let them. For first-timers, I recommend a simple three-card spread. Past, present, and future.”

“How much?”

“Only ten caps.”

Boone dug the caps out of his pockets and handed them over. Once she swept them aside, she picked up her deck of cards, shuffling them before spreading them out. “Pick three.”

He did as he was told, and the fortune-teller placed them each face-down. Then, she flipped over the first one, revealing a heart being pierced by three swords. He didn’t need to know anything about fortune-telling to understand what it meant. Heartbreak.

Boone suddenly found himself wishing that he hadn’t agreed to this.

“Ah, the Three of Swords. A painful card, to be sure, but it has a silver lining — stick with me,” she said, clearly noticing his skeptical look. “You recently experienced a moment of pain, perhaps even betrayal. But you also finally received the truth.”

_That night in Novac, when the courier had stumbled into his life. His first words to her were, “Goddamn it, don’t sneak up on me like that. What do you want?”_

_To which she replied, “Just looking around. You seem jumpy. Like you’re expecting someone — or something.”_

_Nosy. Perceptive. Pain in the ass. “Yeah, I guess maybe I am. But not like you.” What was he expecting, anyways? A Legion assassin. An angel of death. Something, anything that would end the miserable routine he had fallen into. Drinking just to make the nightmares stop, waking up in darkness without ever seeing the sun._

_And then he realized._ _“Huh. Maybe it should’ve been you I was expecting all along.”_

_He told her all she needed to know, and she delivered. It surprised him when it was the motel owner, not Manny, that was brought out in front of the sniper nest. Boone had been convinced that it was his former friend who’d betrayed him. But when she put the beret on her head, he placed his trust in her — it would be the first of many times._

_It only took one bullet to end things. The courier didn’t flinch when he fired._

_After she came back up and handed him the beret, he asked for proof. He wasn’t sure if he could handle having any more innocent blood on his hands. Thankfully, she silently handed him a small scrap of paper. The courier didn’t try to offer him pointless sympathies then, and she never would. In that moment he got the feeling that she knew what loss was. Maybe not to the same magnitude — but knew it all the same._

_If there was some kind of comfort to be had in the knowledge that the woman who’d sold Carla out was dead, it wouldn’t come right away. Boone just felt empty. No anger, no relief. He was still stuck in Novac. Carla was still dead. But at least he got some sort of closure._

_He thanked her, gave her as many caps as he could spare, and assumed that would be the end of things._

_Then she said, “Come with me.” Three words he hadn’t expected. She didn’t seem like the type to travel with someone else._

_“You don’t want to do that.”_ _He thought she was misguided. Naive, didn’t know what she was getting into. But the courier insisted, and he couldn’t help but pick up on the hint of desperation in her voice. She was lonely. Would take any company she could get._

_“We’ll kill more legionaries with two of us.”_

_Boone couldn’t fault her reasoning. Besides, he barely knew her. He’d keep his distance. If he didn’t get attached, then it wouldn’t hurt when things inevitably went to hell like they always did._

_“Fine. But this isn’t gonna end well.”_

_Those words haunted him, just another thing that he couldn’t forget. He knew they were doomed when she shook his hand despite the warning._

_“Probably, but we’d be damned if we didn’t do it anyways.”_

_Looking back, it was him that didn’t know what he was getting into. If only he’d known that it would be impossible to travel with the courier without caring about her. Enough that’d you die for her._

_And eventually, enough that’d you’d live for her._

“Think of it like this,” the fortune-teller continued. “The swords prevent the wound from opening. But if they are never removed, the heart can never heal. The news you received hurt, incredibly so—“

Boone couldn’t help but wince. Reliving that night was difficult. Remembering anything involving Carla usually was. 

“—but now you can move on. Let go. Allow the wound to heal. Just be careful not to let it fester.”

Trying to turn the tide would’ve been easier for him than letting go of the past. Still, he nodded, and she turned her attention to the second card.

Unlike the first, he wasn’t able to grasp its meaning right away. There were symbols he couldn’t understand, creatures he didn’t recognize. “Wheel of Fortune,” the fortune-teller read aloud. “Seems like your luck is finally turning around.”

The idea was laughable.

“Perhaps you just had some kind of epiphany involving fate or destiny. Maybe a revelation about life itself. Whatever it is, there’s been a shift in your worldview.”

_When he’d spotted the Legion raiding party in the distance, a cold sense of calm had washed over Boone. Like his entire half-life had been slotted into neat bookends. It had all started in Bitter Springs, and that’s where it would end. Things were finally going to even out._

_He woke the courier up, told her what he saw. “If you want out, I won’t blame you, but I’m going to stay. See if I can hold them off.” The offer was pointless, more for his sake than hers. He already knew what she’d say._

_“I’m not leaving you here. For the best, anyways. Saves us the trouble of finding them.”_

_“Heh. If only it was this easy all the time.” Making him laugh, even in his final hours. “But I don’t think they’re here for us — too bad. Would’ve made me feel good about myself.”_

_“You don’t sound surprised, Boone.”_

_“I’m not. Always figured this was how it was gonna end for me. Just didn’t know when. That day you showed up in Novac, I had a feeling I was supposed to go with you.” He swallowed, his voice lowering. “And now I know.”_

_He tried to look away. Couldn’t handle the emotion in her eyes, didn’t want to feel guilty for dying on her after everything she’d done for him. He’d warned her from the start, hadn’t he? This wasn’t gonna end well._

_But the courier grabbed his arm, prevented him from turning away. For once, he had no idea what to expect from her. She looked so intense, gold eyes staring into his — like she was equal parts away from slapping or kissing him. He wasn’t sure which he would’ve preferred._

_And then she leaned forward, closed her eyes, and pressed her forehead to his. It made his breathing hitch for a moment._

_But that was all it was — a moment. His breathing soon fell in rhythm with hers like it was the easiest thing in the world. They stayed that way for a few long, precious breaths before she pulled away. The look they shared said more than words ever could._

_“Well. What are we waiting for?”_

_He smiled. “Tell the truth… I think this is exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”_

_The fight itself was a blur. He couldn’t remember much between firing on the legionaries from the ridge and ending up back in the camp with a body at his feet and a bullet in his chest. Boone slumped against a wall, hand clutching the wound._

_Distantly, he heard his name being called, but it was like everything was underwater. Too hard to think. Easier to let it fade._

_And then the courier was there, kneeling in front of him. Yelling for a medic before she practically ripped her bandana off and pressed it against his chest. “Don’t you dare fucking die on me, Craig Boone. Don’t you dare.”_

_Why couldn’t she just let him go? This was it, what everything had been leading up to. His punishment was finally over._

_She had tears in her eyes, her anger fading into desperation as she put a hand on his cheek. In all the time they’d spent together, he’d never seen her cry before. “I know you just want to let go. I know. But you’ve gotta stay with me, alright? Please. Please stay with me, cariño.”_

_And for one fleeting moment, he considered it. Thought about trying to fight, to stay and draw out the pain, sorrow, and grief. For her._

_But he couldn’t, even if he wanted to. It was out of his hands. He heard her cry out when his eyes shut._

_Then everything went black._

_Boone woke up to the sound of someone tapping their foot, set to the backdrop of falling rain. He vaguely registered the bandages wrapped around his chest and the dull pain throbbing underneath._

_He was alive._

_He didn’t know how to feel about that._

_When he pushed himself up into a sitting position, he found himself in a cramped tent with the courier, who was sitting on a cot and staring straight at the ground. She had her head in her hands, and she kept tapping her boot against the ground anxiously._

_“Jack?”_

_She looked up in surprise. “Boone?” Upon seeing him awake, she immediately strode over and threw her arms around him, nearly causing both of them to fall over. He bit back any cries of pain. For once, he allowed himself to return her embrace, pressing his face into her shoulder. Despite his mixed feelings towards waking up, he couldn’t deny how good it was to feel her under his fingertips, to have her that close to him._

_“Asshole. For a minute there I thought you’d cashed out. Don’t you ever pull that shit again.” The anger behind her words was drowned out by the obvious relief._

_Boone didn’t want to let her go. The moment he did, it would all come crashing down again. But, just like always, he was the first to pull away. And, just like always, she let him go without resistance. The courier didn’t go far, though — she sat beside him on the cot, leaving just enough space to prevent them from touching._

_Sometimes he wished she wasn’t so damn considerate._

_“So. We made it through after all. Not sure what to make of that.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Thought my time had come. For a minute there everything made sense. I could feel the end coming. I was ready for it.” He shut his eyes. “Now... I’m back where I was.”_

_“You thought I’d just let you die?” The hurt in her voice caught him off guard._

_“I don’t mean disrespect. It’s a hell of a thing having someone with your ability looking out for me.” An understatement, but he didn’t know how else to describe it. Words were her strong suit — not his. “But I’ve come to believe that there are things nobody can stop. I thought for sure that’s what we’d finally come up against today. It would’ve made sense for things to end here.”_

_He grit his teeth. “But now… I’m still waiting.”  
_

_“Boone… no one is judging or punishing you but yourself. Things just happen.”_

_“If that’s how it is, there’s not a lot of comfort in knowing it.”_

_“Never said it was a comforting thought. Sometimes it’s easier to tell yourself that things are out of your hands. Then you don’t have to worry so much.”_

_Boone tensed. He didn’t like what she was telling him, what she was forcing him to realize. Maybe that was the point._

_“What I mean is… trying to dig yourself out of that hole is harder than just lying down and accepting it and letting yourself die. But you don’t have to die, Boone.” The courier dared to put her hand over his. “Not yet.”_

_He looked down, eventually turning his hand over to hold hers in his. She squeezed, and he squeezed back — a gesture they’d shared once before. It brought him more comfort than he would’ve liked to admit. For not the first time, he wondered why someone like him got someone like her at his side. He sure as hell didn’t deserve her._

_“Maybe not. I just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about all this. Thought this was the end, but I’m still here and nothing’s changed.”_

_“You’ve changed, Boone — you’re not the same man as when you were in the NCR. And you can keep changing for the better.”_

_That was true, in a way. He had regrets despite what the NCR told him. Could actually think for himself now, didn’t accept the bullshit excuse of ‘just following orders’. If only he could’ve realized it without taking so many innocent lives first._

_But he couldn’t accept her words so easily. “A murderer who does good deeds is still a murderer.”_

_“Maybe, but I’d sure as hell rather travel with the good murderer than the one who’s an asshole.” She smiled, and he laughed in spite of everything. “You can’t take back what you’ve done. But your regrets can set you on a better path.”_

_“I guess they brought us here,” he conceded. “One less Legion raiding party running loose now. Never a bad thing, you can take my word for that.” Boone shook his head. “Since when are you so damn worldly?”_

_“I don’t know. Guess I do a lot of thinking in between the shooting and the drinking.”_

_They were quiet for a while, the courier seeming to sense that he needed to think things over. The two of them listened as the rain outside started to come down in heavy sheets rather than light showers._

_“Still feels like I’m living on borrowed time, but I don’t see any reason not to take a lot more of those sons of bitches with me. You got a point. There’s still some things I can do before all this is over.”_

“Change can be intimidating at times, and the outcome has yet to be seen. But things are looking up,” the fortune-teller smiled. She moved on, turning over the third card. Boone was met by the sight of an outstretched hand — the Ace of Pentacles.

“Ah, this card is often described an an exclamation point. It’s a new opportunity, a change in thought, as if fate is extending its hand to you. Now it’s up to you to accept it and turn it into something meaningful.”

He wasn’t sure how to take that. The idea of his future holding anything other than tragedy was unthinkable — but the words of the courier had caused him to start questioning that.

“Are y’all done yet?”

Boone turned and saw the courier poking her head into the tent. He wondered how long she’d been standing out in the rain.

The fortune-teller shuffled the cards back into her deck. “Yes, I’m done with his reading. You’re welcome to come in.”

The courier ducked in and sat next to Boone. “Anything life-changing?”

“Not sure yet.” He passed her hat back to her. 

The fortune-teller instructed her in the same way. The courier picked three cards before resting her hands on her knees and tapping her fingers, clearly expecting to be amused — nothing more.

It didn’t phase her when the first card turned out to be Death. Though the image of the reaper was somewhat unsettling, Boone had to admit that it made sense.

“Death isn’t a card I see often,” the fortune-teller admitted, tilting her head slightly. “But it isn’t as foreboding as people tend to think it is. More than anything, it symbolizes the end of one thing and the beginning of another.”

“Suppose it’s only fitting,” she smirked. “By now I’d say that Death and I are old friends. Bastard just can’t seem to keep a grip on me.”

Boone’s eyes were drawn to the scar in the center of her forehead. He didn’t like thinking about how different things would be if she hadn’t survived the shot to the head. The Mojave was worse off without her, despite the chaos she tended to bring. And God knows what would’ve become of him.

The second card was flipped over. It showed a man and a woman, both holding a cup as they faced one another. “Two of Cups, hm? This card shows a deep bond. It tells of the meeting of two kindred spirits — a chance intersection which may or may not lead to the formation of a long-lasting relationship, but offers solace to both individuals.” She gave the two of them a pointed look.

Both of them tensed up. At this point, openly talking about their relationship was more worrisome to them than death.

The fortune-teller clearly picked up on their apprehension, and decided to dance around the obvious. “Whether or not they close the distance is up to them. But the potential is there, and yearned for by both sides.” With that, she decided to move on, and Boone noticed when the courier’s shoulders relaxed again.

While Death hadn’t concerned the fortune-teller, the third card clearly did — the Tower. Even the courier seemed to be a bit put-off by the destruction and disaster the card showed. “The Tower. Another card I don’t see often, and one you dread more than Death. You’re some kind of special to get both in one reading, you know that?”

“That bad?” The courier raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not here to spread doom and gloom, despite what some people might think. But the Tower shows the moment in which everything changes. One of upheaval, crisis, and unpleasant revelations. There is nothing you can do to avoid it. Just be wary. Things are always darkest before the dawn,” she smiled.

The two paid for the courier’s reading, thanked the fortune-teller, and left the tent. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that the rain had _finally_ stopped. They headed back to gather their things before getting ready to leave the cursed place. Unfortunately, a mudslide had cut off their preferred way out, causing Boone to sigh in frustration.

The courier cursed under her breath. “Should we go the other way?”

Passing through the graveyard again was the last thing he wanted to do. Boone put his boot on the cliff wall next to the pile of rubble, testing his weight — it seemed to hold well enough. “We can get over it. I’ll help you up.”

It was easy for him to scale the ridge, a result of NCR basic training. Once he was at the top, something compelled Boone to take one last look at the camp before they left. If he had any say in it, he would never come back again. It was terrifying in a way. He’d been so sure that this was where it would end, and now he was left to wonder how much longer he’d be sentenced to suffer through.

Or, even more terrifying, maybe there wasn’t anything punishing him to begin with — it was all self-imposed, and now he was left to deal with all the problems that he’d pushed aside because he was so sure that he would die young. But maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe there was something else in store for him, something better.

“C’mon Boonie, you know I can’t do this shit myself.”

He tore his eyes away from Bitter Springs and looked down at the courier. She had a smirk on her face as she extended her hand, waiting for him to help her up.

Maybe he was looking at it.

Boone shook his head at the nickname before reaching for her arm and pulling her up onto the ridge. “You _could_ do it yourself. Just wouldn’t be pretty to watch.” Seeing her climb up cliffs always brought to mind the mental image of a lizard scrabbling up a wall.

She laughed, not bothering to defend herself. The two of them hopped down on the other side and dusted themselves off to the best of their ability. The courier turned to him, still smiling. “Ready to go?”

He wondered if she understood the significance behind her question. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”


End file.
